Pantomime
by divine-serenityJenevieve
Summary: BuffySpike ficlette. Buffy’s POV. After learning of Angel and Spike’s visit to Rome, Buffy goes for a walk alone with her memories.


_**Pantomime**_

By Jenevieve

**Summary:** Buffy/Spike ficlette. Buffy's POV. After learning of Angel and Spike's visit to Rome, Buffy goes for a walk alone with her memories.

**Rating:** PG13 – sexual references and adult content

**Disclaimer:** I sadly do not own any of the characters. They are all the wonderful creations from the wacky mind of Joss Whedon, and I am only taking advantage of my love of the show to play with them for a little while.

**Spoilers:** All of the Buffy series and Angel, Season 5 episode "The Girl in Question"

**Dedicated: **To Candice – Had to write a little something for your "brain child" and well your support and friendship keeps me writing when I want to give up and delete every word. Thanks so much for believing in me.

**A/N: **I've read a lot of fics dealing with Spike's POV over his and Angel's trip to Rome and seeing Buffy with the Immortal so I was curious to explore it from Buffy's POV. References to "Morpheus" refer to the Greek god of dreams. Lyrics used in this fanfic are from the Josh Joplin Group's song "Camera One".

-----

_It's funny how life turns out_

_The odds of faith in the face of doubt_

_Camera One closes in_

_The soundtrack starts_

_The scene begins…._

_---_

The plaza was empty, a soft gray mist moving in and out of the early morning shadows. She moved alone through the mist, swirling and grasping at the ends of her long black pea coat. The sound of her heeled boots echoed like fireworks off the smooth facades of the buildings that surrounded the square; the only sound in the restful silence of the early hour, when only the lost and the forsaken wander the world, alone with their thoughts and memories. She should have been tucked away long ago in her warm little bed adrift in Morpheus's arms, but her mind was a buzz and her feet were not yet ready to lead her home. So through the 4 a.m. stillness she continued her wanderings, her eyes focused far from the bricks before her.

She had arrived home only an hour prior, a smile still lingering on her lips from the evening's events. Dinner, dancing, a nice quiet stroll through the very square she wandered through now, and a soft night kiss at her door, but all of that seemed ages ago. Now all that reverberated through her mind were Andrew's words: Spike and Angel had stopped by looking for her. _Spike and Angel_, together, looking for her, worried about her. Just the idea seemed so alien so bizarre. One, or the other perhaps, but the two of them together? She was still not completely sure why Andrew's revelation had bothered her so much, but it had struck some nerve and she had practically scrambled for the door, the need to get some fresh air overwhelming.

It had been well over a year since she had last seen either of them; Angel on the eve before her big fight with The First, and Spike, his soul ablaze as he single-handily closed the Sunnydale hell-mouth for good. And it wasn't like she had promised either of them anything. The two of them above anyone else knew she needed time; time to find herself, to grow, and to become completely and fully who she was supposed to be. Then why did the fact that they saw her with the Immortal bother her so much? Why did she feel like she had been caught cheating or something?

With a sigh she dropped down heavily onto a small wooden bench at the edge of the square, the sudden weight of her guilt ridden conscience exhausting her limbs. She sat heavily, head bowed clutched in her hands, her hair falling in long waves over her face. Why did she suddenly feel so wrong in her own skin? A breeze suddenly picked up sending a chill up her spine and she leaned back rubbing her arms in an attempt to ward off the unseasonably cold breeze and keep her skin from crawling off.

"What is wrong with me?" she whispered to the silence around her, her eyes staring up at the full moon above.

But even as the words escaped her lips she knew the answer, heard his name whispered like the movement of silk over skin in the back of her mind. It was the same whispered name that had haunted her dreams for over a year now. Spike. After all, there are some things that the heart knows long before the mind can even begin to understand, and it had taken over a year for her brain to catch up. Maybe she really was just another dumb blond sometimes? Or maybe she was just human.

The whispered name stirred memories deep inside and she sat alone on the little wooden bench adrift in events long past played like a movie reel before her mind's eye. There had been the battles, the witty and often caustic banter, and all the moments of deep trust and mistrust all born out of what he was and what she was. Their friendship, relationship, whatever label you wanted to slap on it read in times like a Shakespearean tragedy. Something to rival even the catharsis of _Hamlet_ or _Othello_, and maybe that in itself was the truth of their story, nothing more than the age old fairytale of _Beauty and the Beast_. Though there were times when exactly which role she played could be debated. Cruelty and hatred had been just as much a part of their relationship as love and faithfulness, but only time and their shared battles saw to heal the wounds they continually inflicted on one another, wounds that even now could be born painfully anew with the remembrance of their more tender moments.

Moments of passion, hot and tumultuous steamed before her eyes, and she felt her breath catch in her throat as she remembered the feel of his body, the touch of his hands, and the brush of his lips. She recalled the way in which he could chase away the world in all its painful brutality with the rocking of his hips, in the adoration he bestowed on her through his eyes, and in his eager and ready desire to heal and fulfil her needs. Of course the consequences of their passion had plagued her mind but when someone is lucky enough to have someone else look at them with such unabashed love that person is never fully the same again.

Even now she could see their bodies moving in unison, miles away in days past, nothing more than shadows dancing in the candle light, moving to the rhythm of their passion. As her mind flittered over the memories she became acutely aware of how he had tasted, how he had felt within her, and she swallowed hard to keep from falling completely into the often costly abyss of her past.

But more than the sex and its painful consequences had been the simple moments when he would hold her, willing all his strength and faith in her into her own body. He was one of the main reasons she was sitting, feeling so lost miles away in Italy that very moment. His courage, his faith in her, and his love had helped to save her a thousand times over, a reality she had only just begun to understand. And yet in each of those moments when he was there for her in the most vulnerable and sincere ways he had never asked her for a thing, content only in holding her close and protecting her as best he could.

She felt tears begin to slip silently down her cheeks. It wasn't fair! No matter how much she tried her life never seemed to make anymore sense than the moment before, a continuous game of opening herself up to pain and joy in an attempt to fill up the empty spaces inside of her. The whole thing, her whole life felt like one awfully scripted drama, like some storyline worthy of the next B-rated creation from Aaron Spelling. Hell, the reality show gurus wouldn't even buy into a show with as much drama and sick ironic twists as her life had taken. Maybe she should try out for the next _Bachelorette _and really give the world something to talk about.

But then again maybe that was it that was life, nothing more than a day-time drama, a relentless pantomime in which she played herself for the entertainment of some great cosmic power. Or maybe she was just being melodramatic, but it certainly felt like she was on stage at times, performing one monologue or another, hoping that when the curtain fell she'd have her happy ending. And that meant finding herself, overcoming her tragic flaws as best she could, and admitting to herself where her heart lay.

She knew it wasn't with the Immortal. Of course he was charming and handsome and for many women the very perfection of manhood, but not for her. He was just something fun for now, someone to talk with and enjoy the finer things in life. Secretly she enjoyed the way he looked at her, pampered her, and was content with quiet nights cuddling on the couch, but then again he did know who she was, what she was, and often times wariness and fear can demand greater respect than just compassion. Not that she thought he feared her per se, but there were moments when his pristine shield dropped and she was acutely aware of a sudden caution in his demeanour towards her.

So she didn't see 2.5 kids and a white picket fence in their future, so what? Wasn't she entitled to a little fun? And who was he to suddenly just show up at her doorstep? Why now? What about all those months when he was still fresh in her waking mind? Damn him! Why did everything always have to be according to his schedule? What about her needs, her plans?

Ok that last part was unfair and she knew it. He'd always been concerned about her needs, her dreams; always putting aside his own plans for her. _But still how dare he? Didn't she have a right to be angry with him? _ She sighed heavily again; then why did she feel an overwhelming need to defend herself and her actions? Simply put, it was because she loved him and all the quiet evenings spent curled up warm and safe and happy on the couch with the Immortal could never make her forget him.

The wind blew harsh again, forcing her to turn up the collar of her coat and stuff her hands deep into her pockets. As she did, her right hand touched something smooth and cold. It was her cell phone. Pulling it out, she stared down at its silver face for a few moments, her fingers growing numb.

"What the hell," she shrugged down at the phone and selected the number from her address book. He should still be somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean about now.

Wedging the phone between her shoulder and ear, she stuffed her hand back into her coat pocket and listened breathlessly as it rang. One, twice, five times; maybe they were sleeping and the phone in the plane was off.

She was just about to hang up when a voice soft and low finally answered, "Hello?"

Her mouth was suddenly dry and she sat there unable to speak, the world around her gradually growing brighter with the approach of dawn.

"Hello?" the voice came again, it was bit louder now. Maybe she had woken him up.

Still she said nothing, her heart in her throat.

"Bloody hell, Harm if this is you turn the receiver around you twit!"

"Spike?" she finally breathed.

He paused momentarily. "Buffy?"

She nodded. "Yeah," she replied silently chastising herself for nodding since there was no way he could see her.

He was silent again, waiting for her to continue.

"Andrew told me you and Angel stopped by," she gushed, her heart pounding away in her chest. Why did she suddenly feel like a child caught with their hands in the cookie jar? "He told me you guys saw me with the Immortal and were worried."

"Yeah," Spike sighed. "Sorry 'bout that, pet. We just have a bit of history with your new beau, and well didn't mean no harm by it."

"He's not my beau."

"Little birds say otherwise, luv."

"Since when do you talk to birds?" She tried to put some laughter into her voice but failed miserably. God, she was sounding like an idiot!

He was silent for a moment. "Sorry, pet. We shouldn't have been snooping."

No, no, no, no! Her mind was screaming now and before she could think the words were out of her mouth, "Will you stop apologizing! God, that's so irritating."

Silence.

She sighed, "Look, Spike I'm sorry. I don't even know why I called."

"Had to be some reason, luv," Spike pressed gently. "Did you want to talk with Angel? I can wake him up if you want?"

"No, no, let him sleep," she replied. "I was actually hoping you'd pick up."

"Really? Thought you didn't know why you called?" She had his interest now and she could hear that cocky, sly smile of his through the phone. She couldn't help but smile.

"I guess I just wanted to say thanks," she smiled against he receiver.

"For what exactly?"

"A lot of things. I've owed you a good thank you for awhile now."

"Well you're welcome then."

"Good." She smiled. Her heart had finally stopped racing and she felt surprisingly at ease on the phone with him. Just hearing his voice seemed to help.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"It's good to hear your voice."

"Yours too," she confessed. And as the sun began to rise a dazzling white against the stony face of Rome, Buffy Summers sat alone on a wooden bench quietly working her way one step closer to her happy ending, along with a voice over a cell phone miles away.

_**Fin.**_

------------------

©2004

Ok, that's it. Hope you enjoyed it. Please feel free to leave feedback (only way I'll get better) at (just put some note in the title so I won't mistake it for Spam ).

**Special thanks** to Angela for being my wonderful beta yet again!!!


End file.
